


October's Got Those Orange Eyes

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Halloween, M/M, handjobs, pumpkin patch sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PUMPKIN SPICE HAYSTACK SEX. Or James gives Kendall a handjob in the middle of a pumpkin patch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October's Got Those Orange Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dora/gifts).



> This note's probs longer than the fic. This story is for my bestie, who only reads het Trueblood fic and knows nothing at all about BTR except that there’s a nice, tall Jewish boy that I keep sending her pictures of. About a week ago, I was petitioning people on twitter to give me ideas about the boys' sex styles for my Harvestfest prompt. And then this happened...
> 
> D: On a haystack. It's not Halloween sex without pumpkins and hay.  
> Me: ...sex?  
> D: I'm replying to your tweet! Don't be confused. I would say they were carving pumpkins or something. And mutual masturbation on a haystack with pumpkin covered hands...But that'd be weird.  
> Me: Um.  
> D: Your tweet said something about pumpkin flavored sex. You started this. Stop judging me.  
> Me: IT DID NOT. It said how do you think the boys have sex for my Harvestfest prompt. Like...technique wise, not...um. I'm so entertained by your brain.  
> D: Well. This is awkward. :p That's how I interpreted it. I was trying to help. You should still have pumpkin spice haystack sex.
> 
> ...There is no pumpkin carving, because I forgot. Also, it's short, because it occurred to me that I'm super uncomfortable writing you legit gay porn, D. But I promise, we can continue to talk about Scott Caan's penis and which historical figures we will bang for all of eternity. Happy (belated) Halloween!

When James was a little boy, Halloween was his favorite holiday.  
  
It’s not like James was particularly fond of being scared; he was never the bravest little boy out there. In fact, sometimes he’d get so frightened around Halloween that he’d have to run straight into his mom’s arms. The part he liked was that inevitably, she’d be there, in the kitchen, making cookies with jack-o-lantern faces or ready to paint his face like a Ninja Turtle for some trick-or-treating. Some nights they’d curl up on the couch and watch Hocus Pocus, or they’d decorate the scarecrow that would sit out in front of their mansion until well after Thanksgiving.  
  
Holidays were the one time of year his mom would put aside the business aspect of her personality and just…be James’s mom. Of course he loves them.  
  
It’s different now that James is out in California, though. The seasons never change, and his mom just isn’t around. Still, he tries to grab onto that feeling; to keep his childhood from slipping too quickly through his fingers whenever he gets a chance.  
  
James’s favorite thing to do was always going pumpkin picking. Which is why he’s dragged the guys out to a field in the middle of nowhere.  
Well. One of the guys. Carlos and Logan are still standing back at the farm while Logan tries to get over his phobia of masked monsters yelling _boo_ in his ear. Lame. The yelling is ninety nine percent of the fun when it comes to haunted hayrides.  
  
The tractor hits a rut in the road, which makes the trailer go flying up behind it. A good portion of James’s apple cider sloshes onto his jeans. He pouts. Kendall doesn’t even notice. Beneath them, the trailer rattles and shakes, metal bones creaking with age. James wraps his fingers around a rusty rail, hay poking holes into his jeans. In the distance, pumpkins loom; bright spots of orange in an empty field.  
  
It’s a school day, so most everyone is locked away learning. The pumpkin patch is deserted, except for them, and the creepy costumed workers lurking behind painted scenery; cemeteries and apocalyptic cities, operating rooms and macabre mansions. Occasionally one of  
the lurkers will spring into action, grabbing onto the side of the trailer in an attempt to incite a scream.  
  
James is way too grown up and manly to scream, but he throws them a nervous smile and creeps closer to Kendall all the same. He’s got a death grip on his cider. Mostly from mortification; he can hear the actors’ muted laughter as the tractor moves on.  
  
Mostly, James watches the sky. It’s an Indian summer. In California, all they ever have are Indian summers. James wants bats and ghouls and witches on broomsticks. He wants ephemeral, spooky starlight that brushes against his skin like the gossamer of a spider web.  
Instead there is endless blue; one of those fall days where the light is like old gold, touching all the leaves with a brilliant green glow.  
  
In Minnesota, the foliage would be in the midst of turning; fire colors, like an autumn blaze. In California, everything stays green, always.  
James misses seasons.  
  
Not enough to go back to Minnesota full time, but enough that all the sunlight is making him grumpy.  
  
“We are getting the biggest pumpkin in the world,” James decides, his voice too-loud over the jangling sound of old trailer-bones.  
  
“It’s going to be humongous,” Kendall agrees, but he’s more focused on his phone than he is on what James is saying. James’s grip on his apple cider gets tighter.  
  
“You’re not listening to me.”  
  
“Of course I’m…” Kendall tears his gaze from his phone. “…listening to you. It’s just that Gustavo wants us to have these lyrics memorized by-“  
  
“It’s Halloween. We have the day off. We are getting a ginormous pumpkin and drinking apple cider.”  
  
“But-“  
  
James frowns. Like his mom, Kendall is a part of every Halloween memory James has, going back forever. Of all the people in the world, he should be the one who understands why James loves this time of year so much. And okay, yes, Kendall _likes_ pleasing Gustavo when he’s up to it and annoying him isn’t simply more fun. They’ve got this weird father-son complex thing going on that James only half understands, and most times James just lets it slide. But today James isn’t feeling super tolerant; what understands right this minute is that he and the pumpkins are being ignored in favor of an old dude.  
  
He wrinkles his nose, his lower lip jutting out in protest. His expression must be ridiculous, because Kendall laughs. “Okay. Okay, no more phone.”  
  
That’s what he says, but Kendall Knight is obviously a dirty, filthy liar. The next time an actor dressed as a zombie jumps out at them,  
Kendall barely bats an eyelash, too occupied with the glow of the cell phone hidden beneath his varsity hockey jacket.  
  
When the tractor rolls to a halt, the two of them climb off their haystacks and down into a dusty cornfield, right out of every horror movie ever.  
Kendall’s still not paying attention. He keeps walking, past the pumpkin patch that looms to their left. James hooks a finger in the belt loop in the back of Kendall’s jeans, pulling him to a stumbling halt.  
  
“Hey,” Kendall says. The tractor hits a pot hole in the distance, making a dull thudding noise. They have approximately twenty minutes before it reaches the farm, grabs Carlos and Logan, and circles back.  
  
“You’re walking past all the pumpkins.” James tries to sound nonchalant. He doesn’t pull it off well; a whine pitching his voice higher than normal. James takes a sip of his cider to cover up the sound.  
  
“Oh,” Kendall says, surprised. “We’re here?”  
  
“Who are you? _Logan_?”  
  
Kendall frowns, “Uncalled for. But, uh, aren’t we going to wait for Carlos and Logan to catch up?”  
  
“Carlos is probably still holding Logan’s hand,” James says derisively. The haunted hayride was not that scary. “I want my pumpkin. It’s going to be gigantic. It’s going to be twice the size of my head.”  
  
“I don’t think they make pumpkins bigger than your head, James.”  
  
James lets the insult slide, caught up in the festive Halloween spirit. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t already know his head is perfectly formed.  
  
They start making their way towards the pumpkin patch, but barely five seconds pass before James sees a flicker of too-white light out of the corner of his eye.  
  
It’s not a ghost.  
  
“Put the phone down.”  
  
“What? Sorry.” Kendall tries to discretely slip his cell into his pocket. He is not even close to discrete.  
  
“Learn the lyrics tomorrow.”  
  
“I don’t want to disappoint Gustavo,” Kendall admits, shrugging fluidly. He spins on his boot and keeps walking, all long strides and athletic grace. His entire body is framed by autumn sunlight.  
  
James hurries to catch up. “Gustavo can wait.”  
  
“That’s what you say now. Tomorrow you’ll be all like, _Kendall, Gustavo terrifies me_ and then force me to bargain for more time. We could save ourselves all that trouble if we learned the lyrics today,” Kendall reasons.  
  
“ _Logan_ ,” James says again, because it’s the worst insult he can think of.  
  
“Take it back.”  
  
“No. Go do your homework.” He’s sulking. Maybe. A little. Or a lot.  
  
“James, don’t be that way.” Kendall pokes him in the cheek.  
  
“Don’t touch my face. Jerk.”  
  
“Don’t call me a jerk, jerk.”  
  
James doesn’t handle irritation well, which Kendall should know by now. And he’s really, really irritated. It isn’t about the stupid pumpkin or the apple cider or the hayrides. It’s about feeling like a little kid again, when the air was filled with goblins and witches on broomsticks; black cats that might speak at any moment and the taste of candy corn on his tongue. James doesn’t like that Kendall’s ignoring all of that.  
  
Plus, James is so not a jerk.  
  
Which is why he pours his apple cider over Kendall’s head.  
  
 “ _James!_ ” Kendall screeches, furious. He steps in close, like he’s going to do something unnecessarily violent. James pushes him. It’s totally self defense. Kendall stumbles back, tripping straight over a haystack that marks the border of the pumpkin patch and landing flat on his ass.  
  
Well. At least now James has his attention. Kendall looks _really_ pissed, as opposed to just wet and violent. James realizes he’s going to have to act fast here. So he pounces on Kendall before he can get up and do something drastic, like punch James in the nose.  
  
He’s straddling Kendall’s chest before Kendall even figures out what’s going on.  
  
“What are you doing?” Kendall groans, the sudden weight pressing down on his ribcage impairing his capacity to speak.  
  
“Sitting on you.”  
  
“Why?” The skin between Kendall’s eyebrows pinches together. He looks like he’s seriously considering doing some damage to James’s face.  
  
“Because you’re going to overreact.”  
  
“You poured apple cider on my head and shoved me in the dirt. I don’t think murder would even count as overreacting right now!” Kendall yells.  
  
“See, this is what I’m talking about.” James crosses his arms, his thighs doing a good job of keeping Kendall’s hands trapped at his sides. “You have anger management problems.”  
  
Kendall scowls. “I do not.”  
  
“Dude. You really do.”  
  
Kendall musters up a hateful glare that has absolutely no impact on James at all. He’s too busy looking around the pumpkin patch, which is just as desolate up close as it was from the trailer. There’s absolutely no one here.  
  
James isn’t really sure why he does it. Maybe it’s the sudden press of loneliness on his lungs, or nostalgia for all those Halloweens past where Kendall is woven into his memories; a constant backdrop to every holiday James has ever celebrated.  
  
Maybe James just wants to fuck with him.  
  
There’s a boot print by Kendall’s ear; evidence of all the people who stomped through the patch before. The wind rustles through the evergreens. And James presses a kiss in the hollow of Kendall’s throat. Beneath his mouth, he can feel the flutter of Kendall’s pulse, fast as bat’s wings.  
  
“James,” Kendall yelps, eyes going wide. The leaves on the trees are not on fire, but Kendall is; his hair reflects the pumpkins, all red-orange, and his skin glows golden, and brown freckles are smattered so light on his shoulders that they’re barely visible.  
  
He’s really beautiful.  
  
Kendall repeats, “James-“  
  
“Shhhhh. Do you want to be found like this?”  
  
Kendall reddens, a flush creeping up his collarbone, pressing light against his neck like ghostly fingertips. “No.”  
  
“Yeah you do. You totally do.” James exhales, kissing his neck. A bird caws in the distance. James pretends it’s a crow. “You kinky bastard.”  
  
“I’m all sticky.” Kendall whines, but he doesn’t shove James away. Which is pretty much all the invitation he needs right now.  
  
“You taste like apple cider.”  
  
“Hay isn’t comfortable,” Kendall continues, but he still isn’t moving; it’s like he’s happy trapped between James’s legs.  
  
“Shut up,” James says, scooting down until he’s straddling Kendall’s hips. Carefully, James takes off his leather jacket, making sure to drape it in a bug free patch of hay. He didn’t shell out five hundred bucks for the thing so that it could house a nest of fire ants, after all.  
  
Kendall watches him, amusement dancing in his eyes. Or maybe that’s apple cider dripping off his eyelashes. Whatever. Kendall turns back to the task at hand and says, “We’ve got twenty minutes. I could just bend you over a haystack and fuck you.”  
  
Kendall laughs, too loud, too nervous; too elated.  
  
“So loud,” James huffs. “I thought we were hiding.”  
  
Kendall growls, hauling him in close so that he can mash their mouths together; all pent up aggression and clicking teeth. But a few seconds into it, he turns the kiss softer, fitting their lips, his tongue gentle. His eyes have gone all tender and sweet when he apologizes.  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”  
  
“Make it up to me,” James suggests. He can feel Kendall’s dick against the inside of his thigh, half-hard already. James begins fumbling with his belt buckle. He watches as Kendall’s eyes snap down, following the movement. James instructs, “No more song lyrics, no more complaining. The only thing you have to remember right now is my name. You think you can do that?”  
  
Kendall smirks. It’s a challenge.  
  
James pops the button on his jeans and slips his hand inside, past fabric. With a wicked grin, he thumbs over the head of Kendall’s cock.  
He teases a little, smearing his fingers with Kendall’s precum before he strokes down in earnest. Kendall makes this little noise and  
squeezes his eyes shut.  
  
“Hey, no,” James uses his free hand to tilt Kendall’s chin up. “Look at me.”  
  
Kendall does, eyes fierce. They reflect that endless blue sky, creating a color that is something like a silvery green. Between that weird, preternatural color and the defiant twist of Kendall’s lips, James has to suppress a laugh. It’s just like Kendall to hide behind his bravado, even know, when he’s got James’s hand on his dick in the middle of a fucking field.  
  
The sun is covered in shadow; a cloud, but James doesn’t even notice it’s gone. Being close to Kendall makes his skin tingle and his mind blank out, like his blood’s turning to sunlight and his head’s up in the stratosphere. He speeds up his pace. He can hear the grind of tractor wheels getting closer.  
  
The slickness of Kendall’s cum makes the rhythm of James’s hand turn jerky and loose, but it doesn’t matter. Kendall’s lips part, a quiet gasp, and then James can feel wet all over his hand. He keeps pumping his fist, watching the shape of Kendall’s mouth and the way his supernatural eyes flutter as his body jerks, drawing out his orgasm until he can’t any longer.  
  
Kendall lies there, panting, as James extracts his hand and stands, brushing hay and dirt off the knees of his jeans.  
  
“James, what was-“  
  
“Get up,” James cuts Kendall off.  
  
He knows what Kendall wants to ask, and somehow the idea of that conversation is scarier than witches or zombies or Frankenstein’s monster. Talking about stuff like feelings always is, especially when James doesn’t know the what or the why of the thing that just happened. He doesn’t know if it’s about Kendall or Halloween or the spicy sweet scent of apple cider, still hanging in the air between them.  
  
He just knows he doesn’t regret it. James grabs his jacket and folds it over his arm, trying for calm and collected.  
  
“Carlos and Logan are almost here.” James points to the tractor rattling towards them. “And we are going to get a _massive_ pumpkin.”  
  
Kendall smiles this we-don’t-have-to-talk-about-it smile. It’s enough for now. James knows the talk will come eventually, because Kendall is a part of every Halloween memory that James has ever made. Because he always will be, way, way in the future, when this Indian summer day is over and forgotten.    
  
But for now, there will be pumpkins, and maybe spookiness and a full moon. For now there is Halloween and a shared secret between the two of them, hidden beneath the endless blue sky.  
  
“Bigger than your head,” Kendall agrees.


End file.
